<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Dialectic by Hashilavalamp</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567875">Dialectic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashilavalamp/pseuds/Hashilavalamp'>Hashilavalamp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, technically pining, vaguely hegelian dialectic but make it gay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:35:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashilavalamp/pseuds/Hashilavalamp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Things could be different between them, if Prussia let them. </p><p>In which two notoriously stubborn nations steal away from a political function to negotiate in stalemate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>France/Prussia (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dialectic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally this was intended to be a scene of a longer fanfiction, but I sketched out the basic points of the dialogue the other night and just had to write it. I feel it works well enough on its own, though maybe one day I'll have a greater frame to integrate it into. This scene was supposed to take place roughly 1929, before the crash.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One evening in late summer, they found themselves as guests on the same balcony.</p><p>The view from up there was quite stunning. The side of the building presided over the slope of the hill it was build on, giving access to a view across a sea of trees into the valley below. It was late enough that some lanterns were lit in the distance; the world was already taking on the blue hues of night, but the dying sun painted last streaks of orange and pink into the sky.<br/>
One of those evenings when conversation comes easy and quiet, although things between them had not been easy for a while now. Frustratingly, each time seemed as though something was inevitably on the horizon, yet they never got any closer to it.</p><p>Prussia and him, like two wolves circling each other in misguided courtship. France wondered how it always ended up for him like that.</p><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask…” France spoke first after a lull in the conversation, pensively blowing out smoke from his cigarette. He’d have to keep it vague, didn’t he? He studied Prussia next to him. He seemed relaxed but alert, pale cheeks still flushed from the heat and their talk, his hair glowing strangely in the light of dusk. “In times like these, I think things could change. Why shouldn’t they? I won’t pressure you, but I’d like to know.”</p><p>Prussia, who had been bouncing his foot, abruptly stopped. He understood, and a guarded look entered his eye. ”There’s politics to consider, for one. And because I believe a person should always show restraint. There are more important things in life.”</p><p>“Ah, I always forget you are such a visionary.”</p><p>The air between them shifted ever so slightly. Prussia deadpanned. “You’re a wonderfully charming person. Do you have anything else smart to say?”</p><p>“From one visionary to another, I consider it just as important to know when to pursue a desire.”  </p><p> “See, you're a hedonist. You do only what brings you pleasure in the moment and forget the greater picture. I’m not so inclined” Prussia challenged with an odd cadence. Carefully putting distance between them with a half step back, France noted. Their hands had almost been touching before.</p><p>France met his gaze undaunted, weighing his words carefully. “So that is really what you believe this is to me? Mindless indulgence?”</p><p>“So I know.”</p><p>“Well” France started, clicking his tongue. “Well, even if I agreed, I’d like to propose the thesis that in your own way, you are just as indulgent as I. Because!”, he held up a finger to silence Prussia’s inadvertent protest,  “That discipline that you pride yourself on must work just the same way, in that you overuse it because it brings you the most pleasure – what you indulge in is self denial.”<br/>
France leaned sideways onto the banister of the balcony, studying his opponent in anticipation.</p><p>Prussia processed for a moment, then snorted. “Creatively thought, but restraint isn’t the same as giving in to an impulse by any measure. But of course <em>you</em> would try to pretend it is, because it suits your needs and desires. You desire to sway me by selling it as something that aligns with my goals.”</p><p> “Please, you are missing my point.”</p><p>“Ha! I’d suppose then you didn’t make much of a coherent point at all.”</p><p>A roll of the eyes. “Oh come on, I thought you smarter than this. What my theory stipulates is this: self denial <em>is</em> your impulse. Both of us have a choice, but you never stop to think to say yes. For you it’s self-discipline for self-discipline’s sake, a means that is its own end. You are a person so backwards that for you it would – in fact! - be a show of great resolution if you admitted to yourself for once in your life.”</p><p>This time Prussia actually let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s not a point or an argument, that’s you twisting things around and assuming my motivations. Do we both have that choice, or do you just lament that you can’t do what I can?” Spoken with a light tone, but something in Prussia’s voice made France tense.<br/>
France sighed. Here they were again.</p><p>“We’re always going to end at a stalemate like this."</p><p>An exhale of smoke. "It would appear so. I’d say… if we look at wars and military prowess, we're fairly evenly matched."</p><p>"So is this war to you?"</p><p>The words were left hanging in the air for an uncomfortably long heart beat. Prussia turned his head away, staring contemplatively to the horizon. There was a nearly fanatic intensity to his gaze that would make one think he was peering into an abyss rather than across a Mediterranean landscape. </p><p>He sounded strangely sincere, almost irritated that he had to answer at all, when he eventually replied "Well, what else could it be?"</p><p>And France’s heart broke a little. He didn’t know for who; for Prussia’s foolishness, or for himself.</p><p>"What limited imagination you have."</p><p>"But you don't know either" Prussia asserted without missing a beat. France’s blood ran a little colder, his chest a little tighter. Prussia’s face was set in cold conviction, lips pressed tightly together, posture taut. The red of his eyes gleamed in the waning light, unyielding, but France wasn’t fooled.</p><p>It was laughable, frankly. Laughable – and yet the mirth, however bitter or patronizing, died in his throat with an acidic taste. Because in some sense, there was a grim resemblance to perpetual war between them, a constant pushing and pulling that always ended the same, more protracted than it had been with England. France wished he had better taste in men. Maybe this really was a bit like the trenches, lines only moving back and forth in senseless debate. <br/>
Even so, the way in which Prussia spoke with such unshakable faith was infuriating beyond words. What a coward he was, what a damned coward he was, putting on a brave face!</p><p>“Of course I know!” France bit back, stamping out his cigarette. “I know, or I wouldn’t bother discussing this with you at all! The option for peace is there!”</p><p> Prussia’s eyes narrowed, as though poised to attack. France recognized the look of an animal backed into a corner, bracing himself for its teeth. “It’s surrender you’re asking for.”</p><p>“You were the one who made it mean that!”</p><p>“What have you done to prove me wrong! How could you be trusted to make it mean anything else? Everything is about power, that’s all that the French empire knows! All that matters. I know you, better than you think. I won’t let you do that to me, I’m never going to be under your heel.”</p><p>“No matter how much you may insist, this isn’t petty European politics. I’m not interested in subduing anyone!”</p><p>“Then why don’t you surrender? Or walk away from this, then you’ll have your peace.”</p><p>“Because—“ France interrupted himself, gesturing incredulously to bridge the silence, feeling his heart seize up. “You’ve got it wrong! You’re wasting yourself! You treat me as though I’m a man of pure debauchery, having convinced yourself so thoroughly that you’re not subject to the same feelings as any of us, falsely vilifying that which is most human about us! And now you’re demanding that I capitulate to you and your fear? I can’t let you get away with that either.”</p><p>Prussia tilted his head slightly, perhaps unsettled momentarily. “My potential isn’t shaped by what you want me to be! Look at you talk. It comes just as naturally to you. If I did— If I made this concession, you would think of it as a victory, no matter how sure you are it’s for my sake.”</p><p>“You could end it just the same if you walked away. Because it is you who can’t stand that I am not like you, that I don’t pointlessly deny myself to try and prove I’m better than others. You’re scared that I could be right, so you always come back to this. You care as much as I do.”</p><p>“But you can’t even admit that you’re as much at fault as I am.”</p><p>Stalemate.<br/>
Honestly, why did France expect anything else at this rate. Exasperated, he ran a hand through his hair. There was the sneaking fear that Prussia would see the lack of retort as an admission of temporary defeat, but Prussia didn’t appear particularly high-spirited either, the dark circles under his eyes prominent even now and his hands fidgety at his sides. Smaller somehow. <br/>
France’s instinct was to vacate the place as quickly as he could, to preserve both Prussia’s dignity and his own. Neither of them had really gained anything here, just as last time. The twitch of Prussia’s head betrayed that he was thinking the same. But both thought better of it, stubbornly remaining next to each other. Maybe to demonstrate that they wouldn’t give in, daring the other to leave first. Maybe to let the other know, through such a small and simple gesture, that they did care.    </p><p>Ah. It was darker now, crickets chirping pleasantly to tide over the silence. It was getting late.</p><p>France eventually stepped away, and reached for the handle of the door from the balcony. He closed his eyes, then reconsidered. </p><p>“Gilbert.”</p><p>Prussia was obviously caught off guard by the sound of his own name, another testament to the absurdity of his predicament. Who could covet their name this much, so much that nobody but his brother was allowed to use it?</p><p>“There is one thing I want to say. It was left implied earlier, but given its importance we should acknowledge it and call it by its name. For your self-restraint to count for anything, there has to be desire first from which you are abstaining. We can both admit that it’s there, can’t we?”</p><p>France pushed open the wooden door, lingering on the threshold to permit Prussia those few precious seconds it could take to decide on a reply.</p><p>Prussia nodded his head once, slow and deliberate as though it cost him great effort.</p><p>Maybe it shouldn’t have been a relief. Maybe France should have been angry, or maybe it shouldn’t have mattered at all, such a tiny admission. What weight did it have at this point, really? And yet.<br/>
And yet.</p><p>France stood mockingly to attention.</p><p>“I’ll see you again on the battlefield then.”  </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>